


colours look so good on you

by crankyjones



Category: SKAM (France), SKAM (TV) RPF
Genre: Almost Kiss, Art, M/M, Painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 09:33:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17743379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyjones/pseuds/crankyjones
Summary: It's not real. It can't be real.





	colours look so good on you

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [les couleurs te vont si bien](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740265) by [crankyjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankyjones/pseuds/crankyjones). 



> so, i rewrote the third episode.  
> (forget all the clips after the kinsey scale one)
> 
> (version française disponible sur mon profil)

When Daphné had an idea, it was useless to try to talk her out of it.  
That was why Lucas was at school on a Friday evening, while he could be chilling in his bed, watch a movie—or do anything else than hanging coloured light garlands on the walls of the ‘foyer’.

“It’s a good idea, that party, right?” Daphné exclaimed with enthusiasm.  
“Let me remind you that you were against it not even a week ago,” Alexia replied, fighting with her fluorescent scrunchie.  
“However, the fresco isn’t good at all…” The blonde mumbled between her teeth, ignoring her friend’s comment. “It ruins everything.”  
“We could hang some kind of white curtain?” Emma offered from a corner of the room, sat on a chair, phone in her hand.  
“I know! We could hang a white curtain!”  
“And where do you want us to find that, exactly?” Imane sighed while piling up as much chairs as she could carry.  
“There may be one in the art room,” Lucas spoke without looking up from his garlands.  
“Well, in the art room, obviously,” Daphné snorted. “Oh, Lucas, would you mind going? Try to find some fluorescent paint while you’re at it, please.”  
Lucas rolled his eyes but complied. Anyway, saying ‘no’ to that girl was beyond belief—except if you had a sudden urge to die in a horrible suffering.

The worst part was that this party would only take place the next night, around eight. In other words, in more than twenty-four hours. But Daphné had insisted for them to start the preparations right away, arguing that _everything had to be absolutely perfect, otherwise no one would come_.  
No one dared to tell her that, perfect party or not, the ‘foyer’ was still the ‘foyer’ and nobody cared about it.

Arriving in front of the art room, Lucas was surprised to find the door wide open and the light turned on. Without a sound, he entered and looked around the room yet, apparently, there was nobody. The school staff probably forgot to lock. More confident, he walked toward the back of the room. There was a second door which contained another room, a little premises, where were kept every artistic materials and tools. Lucas never saw this place before; art wasn’t exactly his thing and, anyway, only the students who chose it as their specialised subject were allowed in here.  
Which meant he wasn’t supposed to be here. But no one would notice anyway and it was for the ‘foyer’ project—not to steal the stock of paint and brushes.

Nonetheless, when he opened the premises door, Lucas noticed he wasn’t alone. In front of him, a back. A back covered with a hoodie, as black as the night sky. A back he could recognise among a thousand ones after spending hours visualising it.  
Eliott hastily turned around, alerted by the creaking of the old hinge. When he saw the boy, his eyes got smaller and his lips turned into a radiant smile while he tucked a paint brush behind his ear. “Hi, Lucas.”

At that moment, Lucas knew he was falling again. Although he promised himself numerous times not to think about that boy in _that_ way—with hearts instead of words—, those were just empty words now because _good Lord his smile_.  
But Eliott had a girlfriend. A girlfriend he was in love with.  
In other words, he was utterly unattainable and the mere fact of having dared to flirt with him without knowing if he was single or not was absolutely disgusting from him. He was seeing his smiles again, hearing his words again, feeling his eyes on his neck while he was playing piano just for him like he never played for anyone before again.  
However, all that, all that pseudo-attraction, that was just stories he had told himself. Eliott had a girlfriend. A girlfriend he was in love with.

“Hi,” he gulped, letting go of the door.  
“You’re specialising in art as well?”  
“What? Err, no, no…” Lucas stuttered.  
“Then what are you doing here?” Eliott laughed softly and spun on his stool to face him.  
“Err… I… ‘Foyer’.”  
“Err… you… ‘Foyer’?” He repeated.  
Lucas closed his eyes for a second, tried to find himself a front. _Pull yourself together, Lucas._ “I need paint and some kind of white cloth for the ‘foyer’.”  
“It’s a bit more English, I understand better.”

His eyes rolled all by themselves as Eliott’s laugh filled the small premises. In those moments, the only thing Lucas wanted to do was to kiss him so as to shut him up. Not only in those moments, actually; all the time.  
But Eliott had a girlfriend. A girlfriend he was in love with. All that, all that pseudo-attraction, that was just stories he had told himself.

Eliott got up to move toward a cupboard. “What kind of paint do you need?”  
“Oh, okay, not even a month in this high-school and you already know about the dark corners of the art premises?”  
“Well, yeah,” he assented, looking over his shoulder with a crooked grin. “I spend my life in here.”  
“And what do you do, exactly? It’s not really a place that I’d call entertaining,” Lucas observed. “Especially since there is a much bigger and brighter room right next door.”  
“I paint, I draw… There isn’t really anything else to do around here, I believe.” Eliott turned around completely and leant on the cupboard, arms crossed on his chest. “Unless you have something in mind.”  
In that position, there was such a presence coming from him that Lucas felt his face heat up suddenly, and he hastened to look down, clearing his throat. _It’s all in your head, Lucas._

To put up a front, he walked to the stool where was sat the other boy a minute ago. The tingles on his skin made him extremely aware of Eliott’s eyes laid on him. He gulped with difficulty and looked up at a coloured canvas. Actually, ‘coloured’ wouldn’t be the first word he would use to describe it. Black, grey, white. And that was it. However, some sort of beauty Lucas couldn’t express was released from the painting. Some sort of melancholy, too. Each tone seemed strictly separated from the others and, despite that, he felt like they were all connected.

“You did this?” Lucas asked without looking away from the canvas.  
“Yeah, I did. But it’s nothing really. And I’m far from being done.”  
The boy turned his head toward Eliott. He had let his head rest against the wood of the cupboard and his mouth was slightly open. His eyes were so deep, their blue seemed to probe him. “It’s beautiful. I mean it.”

Eliott straightened up and walked to stand next to him and observe his work. Lucas’ eyes, yet, couldn’t help but look at his face. He was so… handsome. Really handsome. Everything about that boy took his breath away. There wasn’t a single little detail that was wrong. And seeing him that close…  
Eliott turned his head and captured Lucas’ gaze with his. When, from the corner of his eye, he caught the tip of his tongue brushing against his lower lip, he thought he was about to swoon. It was the smile that followed that kept him on earth.  
“You’re actually so tiny.”  
Lucas’ eyes fluttered open unintendedly and a little laugh escaped him. “Uh? And you don’t think that maybe you are the one who’s too tall?” He dared replying, tongue against his teeth.  
“It doesn’t matter, you know, tiny people are cute.”  
He raised his eyebrows while the corners of his lips fought to get higher and higher on his cheeks, and he could’ve had sworn that Eliott was flirting with him.  
He could’ve had. But Eliott had a girlfriend. A girlfriend he was in love with. All that, all that pseudo-attraction, that was just stories he was telling himself.

When that thought assaulted him, Lucas cleared his throat and looked away from the boy’s face. He had to stop being on a roll. Now. All that, that meant nothing, neither for Eliott, and even less for him.

“Fluorescent,” he mumbled between his teeth, tousling his hair in a nervous gesture.  
“What?”  
Lucas looked up at Eliott. _Girlfriend._ “Fluorescent paint. That’s what I need,” he explained, wrinkling his lips.  
“Oh. Alright.” Eliott nodded slowly and turned around to go back near the cupboard.  
The boy closed his eyes, quietly sighed, and followed him—while doing his best to leave a reasonable distance between the both of them. _Girlfriend, Lucas. Girlfriend_ , he repeated to himself again.

“Are you afraid I might infect you or something?”  
Lucas raised his head and met Eliott’s gaze. He looked… puzzled. A beautiful smile was lighting up his face, and it made him feel things he’d rather not feel, but he looked completely lost. As if he didn’t know which way to turn.  
_At least, he wasn’t the only one._  
“No, I…”  
“Well, come, then,” he interrupted. “Pick what you need.” With a nod, he showed the cupboard he just opened. The other keys of the bunch—the ones that weren’t sinked into the lock—were tinkling against each other. Then, Eliott disappeared behind the leaf and it was only at that moment, when Lucas couldn’t see him anymore, that he managed to let go of the air that got stuck in his lungs.

His feet barely lifted from the ground when they lead him near the boy. Lucas had that weird feeling to be stuck in some rift where time was only a conception, where seconds were minutes, where minutes were hours. He let his body rest against the corner of the cupboard and his eyes, by instinct, landed on Eliott’s profile. He wasn’t even doing it on purpose. It was as if he was attracted to him, both metaphorically and literally. _Girlfriend, Lucas._ It was so confusing. Despite the word that he was constantly repeating to himself, his body didn’t manage to make the connection. Why was it so hard to not feel anything for that boy?

“There is yellow, orange… green, too. And I think there’s pink, at the bottom, wait…” Eliott’s head was nearly inside the cupboard but it got out of it quickly.  
When he turned toward him, Lucas looked down at the four tubes of paint he had in his hands—in his _large_ hands.  
“Does that suit you?”  
“I… Yeah, I guess.”  
“You may wanna see how the colours look like?”  
Lucas wanted to tell him the colours of the paint were most likely the ones that their respective tubes were wearing—otherwise, they wouldn’t be coloured that way—but, the truth was, saying ‘yes’ to Eliott was an automatic reflex. If he ever offered him to dye his body hair purple, he would probably agree without thinking about it. “Err, yeah, sure.”

Eliott put three of the four tubes on one of the shelves and opened the last one, which happened to be the green one, with his thumb. His other hand raised at the level of his ear and took the paint brush. Lucas was following his fingers with his gaze, but he knew it was his face that Eliott was watching. He could feel the heat of his visual fire burning him.  
The bristles of the brush dug into the tube and went back out covered by a layer of green paint whose hue was verging on khaki despite shining a little bit.  
“Once in complete darkness, the colour shines even more,” he explained.  
Lucas raised his eyes and met Eliott’s. He wouldn’t be able to tell if it was because of the yellowish light that the bulb was spreading or if they were always like that, but they seemed to be sparkling.

Every notions of time were unknown and they could’ve had stayed there for hours, one’s eyes deep into the other’s, Lucas wouldn’t even have had noticed. There was something about Eliott; he couldn’t tell what… There was something about Eliott that drove him crazy. That made him want to give up on everything, just to be with him. It wasn’t just one specific thing, it was… It was everything and nothing at the same time. It was _him_.

When Eliott gently put his index on one of his cheeks, Lucas first didn’t know how to react. It was the first time he had touched him. Intentionally. It was the first time his skin had directly touched his. His senses were on alert, ready to retain in the depths of his memory each and every detail of that moment. Every body hair that was standing on end, every chill that went through him, every beat of his heart that seemed to shake him wholly. Eliott’s index shifted, moved to get closer to his lips, but stopped before reaching them, and it was incredibly hard for Lucas not to release a sigh out of frustration.  
Then, just like that, there was nothing anymore. No finger, no feeling. Just a memory.  
“What…”  
Lucas couldn’t finish his sentence; Eliott put his other index on his second cheek. He found himself at a loss of words, as if the question he was about to ask suddenly got stuck inside his throat. The same outline. And his gaze…

Eliott removed his fingers right when he let go of the boy’s eyes. A shaky breath escaped Lucas’ partially open lips when he noticed the so small distance that was separating them. The brunet was looking him up and down; he was observing him, just like he did the other time, when he went to his house. It intimidated him. Although he didn’t show it, it intimidated him so much…  
Lucas looked down at Eliott’s hands and saw they were empty. No more brush, no more tube of paint. However, his two indexes were covered with a light layer of green. Thinking back what he felt when they were pressed against his cheeks, he lifted his own hand to his face and discovered that his fingers were now green as well.

He realised he had lowered his head only once Eliott’s fingers—those same fingers that had traced lines of paint on his face—raised it back up. His eyes caught his immediately, and Lucas felt his stomach tighten up underneath the weight of their blue, so deep it was mesmerising. He didn’t know if it came from him or from Eliott, but a sigh echoed around them.  
“Colours look so good on you, Lucas…”  
Lucas then lost all ability to breathe. _Girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend._ The word repeated itself, but Eliott’s were stronger. _Colours look so good on you, Lucas…_ No matter Eliott’s girlfriend, no matter Chloé who thought he was nothing more than an asshole. No matter what others thought about it, no matter what he persuaded himself to think about it. No matter the voice that shouted at him that none of it was real, that he imagined all of it. At that moment, he was terribly aware that whatever was happening, it was real, it wasn’t just stories he told himself.  
“Colours look so good on you…” Eliott repeated, almost quietly.

_It’s not real. It can’t be real._ Then why was he feeling so many different things at the same time? And why did he feel like they were even closer than they were a second ago? Every feeling felt intensified and Lucas wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if he really was here, with his face a few inches away from Eliott’s. _Kiss me, please._ It was true torture and, yet, he wished that moment could last forever. _Kiss me, Eliott. Prove me that’s real. Prove me that’s not only stories I’m telling myself._

He hadn’t heard the footsteps. It was the slow but sharp knocks on the door that made Lucas jump and swiftly step away from Eliott. The green paint that covered a part of his cheeks had to be completely invisible underneath the bright red hue they were wearing right now.  
“Sorry to interrupt…” Imane started, her gaze switching from one boy to the other. “Daphné is losing it, Lucas. She said, I quote: you take too much time, whereas we do not have time.”  
“I, err…” Lucas stuttered, still too shaken to be able to form a coherent sentence. “Yeah, I… I’m coming, I…”  
“Cool,” she cut him off before turning around and walking away.

Lucas tousled his hair, like he did every time he was nervous, and let a deep sigh slip. Then, none of it was real? That was just stories he told himself?

He dared turning around to look at him. When their eyes met, Eliott gently bit his lip to release it almost immediately, letting his face trim itself with a smile. A couple steps later, he had reached Lucas and he put his lips on his cheek. It was so fast, so brief; in barely a second, it was over. But that second was enough for his heart to stop and start again at a crazy pace.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucas.”  
Something fell in his hands and, looking down, he noticed it was a bunch of keys. He heard Eliott’s footsteps moving away and hurriedly looked back up. The boy stopped at the premises door to turn to look back at him.  
“Don’t forget to lock, alright?”  
He shot him a wink and, just like that, he was gone.

Subconsciously, Lucas’ hand lifted to his cheek. The cheek Eliott’s index had painted. The cheek Eliott’s lips had kissed.  
His heart was pouding wildly, his stomach served as a sanctuary for butterflies, his entire body was releasing an unbelievable heat. And, for the first time in a while, Lucas surprised himself by smiling.  
By smiling for real.  
Because all that, that was real.


End file.
